The year of Harry

This year my creativity has been attacked from an unexpected quarter. In February we adopted a puppy from a shelter. Harry was a happy, sweet, golden mishmash of Africanis, Labrador and Great Dane staring up at us from the puppy pen and whining that he’d chosen us. We brought him home and love him to death.

He loves me so much that he has to consume anything that smells of me. Over the year he’s eaten three leather shoes, four pairs of slippers, four bras, a pair of leggings and half a sarong. I’ve finally learned to be neat and put things away in cupboards.